Parental Expectations Die Hard!

A couple of days ago, a friend asked me if I ever felt that I was a disappointment to my parents. (And this is one accomplished woman!) She said that she had always had that feeling despite all her achievements and wondered if she was alone. I hastily reassured her that in that regard, she had good company in me. Parental expectations can nag one for years and can play a significant role in one’s life decisions. Perhaps this is more true of our generation and not so much of our children today. Kids today are very independent and self-assured. We can actually learn from them.

Bureaucrat I Was Not Cut Out to Be
While growing up, I know for sure that my parents, especially my father had wanted me to follow in his footsteps by joining the prestigious civil service in India and become a bureaucrat! To join that service, one had to take one of the most difficult examinations where the focus is to weed out the average and keep the best. Folks who made it were cream of the crop and were almost guaranteed positions in the top echelons of the Indian government. This whole process was a true relic of British colonial rule, only now it was customized to suit free India’s needs.

Ambitious I Was Not
And yours truly had absolutely no interest, but she did take the preliminary test-the first step in eliminating a large number of applicants and made it. Thereafter, I spent a lot of money in coaching classes but just did not bother to truly prepare for the main written examination. Of course, I did not make it, but truly I did not care. Secretly, I was glad. I think I went through the motions because I felt it was my duty to please my parents who were definitely not fooled by my indifferent attempts to prepare for this major exam. They knew from my academic record that I was fully capable and also how dogged I can be if I want something badly, so if I had truly desired to join this service, I would have burned the midnight oil and done the needful. Instead I preferred to become a high school teacher which was considered a rather ho-hum career then. Interestingly, I was not all ambitious in my youth and I think that was a bigger disappointment to my mother who was a true intellect. Actually my ambition only revved up in later years.


My years as a high school teacher were some of the happiest in my life despite bigger parental plans for me.

Mother's Yearnings Were Reflected in Me
As I have explained in an earlier article, mother was a highly qualified and well-read woman who was unable to fulfill her own ambitions because of her times when women were expected to marry well and have families. While she was a phenomenal mother to all her seven children, one could sense her unfulfilled intellectual ambitions. More than anyone in the family, she was very concerned that I did not follow her path of not developing my potential to the fullest. She did not believe that marriage and career were mutually exclusive. Grooming me in needlework, cooking etc. was not on her agenda as she believed that when the proper time came, women could pick up basic household skills but that parental help in educational matters could only be truly available when we were at home with them. And she was absolutely correct as I learned later...

Bring Your LSAT Books Home to Delhi
During my interesting career path in US, when I became a paralegal, she was privately quite upset that I was not an planning to be an attorney myself. My attempts to convince her that this was a great job and that I was working for one of the largest law firms in US and was one of the lead supports in one of the biggest litigation in the country, did not cut any ice with her. She firmly believed that I had sold myself short as I, myself was equally capable of being one of the attorneys working on the cases. When I would plan to visit home in Delhi, she would ask me to bring my LSAT preparation books to study for law school while she took care of Baku who was a baby at that time. She was a wise woman because she could see that my marriage was troubled and that it was important to have a proper career to fall back on. Of course that was realistically not possible as too much was happening in my life at that time. But to this day, I often think of going to law school as it keeps gnawing at me that I somehow disappointed my mother.


Here as a paralegal with my co-worker. Now this job really bothered my mother because every opportunity she had, she asked me to prepare for LSAT with her help.

Even Marital Failure was Letting Them Down
Funnily, I believed making my marriage work was not just important for me but also for my parents. In an odd way, when my marriage was in trouble, I felt for a long time that I had somehow let down my parents. Lonely and in pain, I did not give them any hint for the first few years about my marital woes for fear of disappointing them in me. I wonder if this is cultural because parental role is so significant in the Indian culture. Having said all the above, let me say clearly that neither of my parents ever indicated verbally their disappointment or anything of the sort- it was just an intangible feeling I had. Rather both my parents were very vocal about how proud they were of the way I took charge of my life considering the sheltered environment I grew up in. Even now while I am thrilled with my life today and my current career as a policy analyst, a slight guilt still remains. But, that I think is my own issue.


At work today as a policy analyst, I have finally found my niche. Mom was finally happy that I was getting the intellectual opportunity to grow...

Some Parental Expectations Are Just Fine
Thinking back I wonder if this desire to fulfill parental wishes to such an extent was unique to our family or the Indian culture or is it more ubiquitous than I realize. I do know that as I grow older, I am becoming increasingly like my parents, but I am making a conscious effort to not live vicariously through my son because I want his spirit to be unfettered. I just want him to be happy with whatever choices he makes and I hope he chooses wisely. But my family's age-old parental expectation that whatever you do, you have to do very well – still remains strong and I think my son knows that rather well... At least, I hope so.

Dating Debacles of a Single Indian Mom Part- I

With My closest Indian friend in US a few years ago when she was single too-she and I had a lot of fun laughing at our complete ineptness in the dating scene

Once you have healed from the pain of a failed marriage and have transitioned to a good place in your life as a single parent, it is only natural to want to find a partner or at the very least someone to do things with. But putting yourself out there is a very scary proposition. It is especially more intimidating for women from the Asian subcontinent settled in the US. In a culture where arranged marriage is generally the way to enjoy holy matrimony, dating is not the norm in their socio-cultural universe. Let me share some humorous, but revealing episodes that show acclimatization over the years...

Get Back into Dating!!! We Were Never There
I recall with amusement some years ago at a previous job, when an American-born co-worker/friend also a single mom once commented that it would be tough for her to get back into the dating scene again. I exclaimed, “Get back”, I was never there to begin with! She found it a true anomaly because here she was looking at a well-educated woman, an ambitious and confident go-getter in the professional world, somewhat of a feminist, but totally clueless and inhibited when it came to the dating game. However this is not just my story, this is typical of many educated middle-class women from the Indian subcontinent who are otherwise successful professionals in the US.


With all of my beautiful and accomplished single Indian mom friends here in US.

Another World
Most of us have attended all-girls schools or even if we went to co-educational institutions and participated in many co-ed social activities, the emphasis was on academics to be followed by grooming for marriage in terms of developing household skills, certainly not on dating. Things have changed back home now, at least according to Bollywood movies which while exaggerated fantasies are still based on some reality.

Cannot resist showing a picture of my beautiful niece as a bride at her arranged wedding.

The Rules
So coming back to my girlfriend, she decided to take me in hand and presented me with a book called, “The Rules”. This book, I can say with complete seriousness, was the trashiest reading , I had done in a while, but still full of age-old wisdom. Essentially, it focuses on the most entertaining set of games that women are persuaded to play to hook a man. Apart from personal cultural limitations, it goes totally against my personality-type of being a straight shooter who has no time for playing the dumb feminine wiles advocated within. Obviously, the book is languishing in some corner in my house.

It Is Ok To Talk to Strangers – Not So
This friend just killed me with her coaching. Once I did the mistake of telling her that a reasonably attractive man seemingly decent and seated next to me had attempted to strike a conversation with me on the Metro. I was reading my newspaper at the end of a long day, when he made an inane remark to the effect like, “This Metro service is really getting worse.” Considering it a rhetorical statement because we all know how annoying Metro is, I briefly nodded and buried my head in the paper again. He attempted again, “So how has your day been?” Now I was hit by an uncharacteristic bout of reserve and just gave him an icy, clipped response like “Good” or something to that effect. Well, that was the end of that stilted conversation. Flustered, the poor man got off at the next stop. I bet he disembarked prematurely to escape the awkwardness of the situation. (I felt bad and almost yelled out the all-American panacea for all situations- "don't feel bad, It is not personal", but of course I didn't.) Sure enough, I never heard the end of it from my friend. She literally wagged her finger in my face saying that this is America, it is A Okay to smile and talk with a strange male even if you have not been introduced formally. Well, Hello! How can I forget all my ingrained culture and the nuns’ teachings at an all-girl Catholic school that I attended for fourteen years, just like that!!! We are just plain old school.

Totally Clueless
Another time, I was very absorbed slaving away on a memo when I saw a consultant that I had seen around, standing at my office door asking if he could borrow a pencil. Irritated at being bothered while I was attempting to meet a deadline, I remember wondering why the heck was he bothering me when others were around. Anyway, I quickly gave him a pencil, but he seemed to hesitate till he saw my annoyed expression. He left and I shut my door to continue slogging. Unbeknownst to me, my co-worker had been watching the entire episode. Oh my Lord! She immediately marched into my office and scolded me, telling me that the poor guy had been hovering and sweating it out for a bit till he had mustered the courage to come up to me and I had completely blown him off. Essentially, I had just blown it -ONCE again. Needless to say, I was given another lecture on not being smart enough to pick up on the cues and kept missing the signals from nice men. Whatever!

It Is Only a Dance!
There have been other many such social situations like going to a dance with girlfriends. So picture this, while my American girlfriends were smiling and radiating positive energy, a couple of Indian girlfriends and I ran the gamut of emotions from icy, glum, gloomy to positively grim expressions. When one poor guy did venture to face me, the ultimate queen of darkness, I hesitated, till my friend Barbara lost her patience and said, “Heavens Raksha, the guy is asking you only for a dance not marriage”. Ouch!!! I trotted obediently to perform the worst semblance of swing dancing possible. Needless to say it certainly was the last dance!

We Are a Package Deal
A few months back, a couple of my Indian girlfriends and I decided to be brave and attend a singles event. Our feeling of vulnerability and social discomfort in such a situation was at an all-time high. The event with a bar-like environment was a true meat market with everyone checking each other out-blatantly. The American single women went around introducing themselves to each other and the guys. And what did we three do? We three wimps clung to each other for dear life !!! Whether going to the bar or while sitting and eating those disgusting nachos, that the event planner freely provided us or even going to the Ladies Room together like middle school girls - high school would be too advanced. I guess we considered ourselves a package deal as in buy one get two free because we pretty much were glued to each other all evening, uncaringly breaking the golden rule that you never go to a singles event in a group as that can be itself intimidating to any single guy wanting to approach any of us. One bold and definitely not beautiful guy did come over and boy did he love the attention that he got from the three of us!!! At that point, we had just wanted to redeem the exhorbitant cover charges that we had paid.

(On the surface, we were a power-trio, three haughty divas with solid professional careers - all used to alpha males in the work domain. But in terms of social reality, we were a churning internal cauldron of conflicting emotions ranging alternately from optimism, excitement and pride at our sense of adventure, but most predominantly social anxiety and awkwardness).

Some are Just Naturals
Our Western counterparts, for the most part, are simply used to the dating world and have a certain ease which just seems to elude us women from the East. This comfort level can be attributed to years of exposure and experience. Of course, some women are just naturals at meeting men in any situation. I am in complete awe of a girlfriend who can go into any place - a grocery story, dry cleaners, park, gas station etc. etc. and come back with a date with mostly regular men. It is all above board and proper –she follows the safety rules. She is just very comfortable in her own skin and can start talking about anything from parrots from Africa, war in Afghanistan to Bush's intellect or rather the lack of it with a complete stranger

It is Still a Learning Process
Of course after ten years of being single I have made some progress but it has not been easy. To put it mildly, the dating world is very draining. Due to our cultural inhibitions (we are constantly fighting our inner demons borne of generations of social taboos wherein it is constantly drilled that mingling and togetherness with men without marriage is immoral), it doesn’t come naturally. It takes double the effort to intellectually put yourself out there and go through emotional experiences which one would normally go through in high school or college here. Similar let-downs are doubly painful in middle-age and take longer to heal because of being a novice in the manipulative games that one is suddenly exposed to at this stage in our lives, coupled with the serious baggage which each of us brings to this man-woman dance. But the painful reality is that unless one is planning to spend life with bassets and cats or whatever animal suits your fancy, one has to get out and about and play the game of life while being true to yourself- finding that fine balance is what I consider truly the toughest part…

Some Things Like Bassets Are Meant To Be, Part II - The Polo Chapter...

King of his domain - he certainly likes his space.

Charleigh's loss in February 2006 left a huge vacuum in our lives. I didn’t realize the magnitude till I saw my son within a week, checking out basset rescue websites to look for another basset. Unlike me, my son internalizes a lot and when I saw him doing this so soon, I knew he was hurting and we should start to look again. They say, the best way to get over the loss of a pet is to start looking immediately for another. Isn’t this the same advice given to us humans regarding failed relationships! There is some wisdom in it...

Our Designer Brand Polo
The very same co-worker who introduced us to the world of bassets came to our rescue. Apparently, our care for Charleigh had convinced the breeder, from whom she got her bassets, that we were the epitome of animal foster parents. So we were needed again. This time, the breeder had a gentle male basset who was a complete misfit among her many girl-bassets who would not brook his undignified sniffing habits as was evident from the bite scars on the ears of the otherwise extremely handsome Polo. Yes, he was named Polo because the breeder clearly has a fetish for American clothe brands. She had named Polo’s grandfather, Levi!!!

Polo on Baku's bed- Baku is of course, his true boss!

Boy, Was He Beaten!
Anyway, we brought Polo home in April 2006, two and a half months after Charleigh’s trip to Heaven. We met the breeder at a dog show in Harrisburg, PA, where she had traveled from Massachusetts. The first time we saw Polo, we were not impressed. Though clearly a handsome male with brown and black markings on a white coat, he looked beaten in spirit with his head hanging low. He appeared to cringe at his own shadow! Those basset bitches had certainly reined him in. Anyway, Baku was stuck on getting a basset and to get a pure bred without paying a dime, was not a bad deal. Little did I know…

Many Rude Revelations!
Initially when Polo arrived at our place, he was completely stressed out. I guess he missed the women in his life, however abusive. Loneliness is certainly a bitch – Of course, the pun is intended! Crazed in the new environment, he sanctified my house with his presence in more ways than one, something that I initially attributed to stress, but which I soon learned to my horror of horrors was not the case. Polo was completely not housebroken! Yikes!!! A three year old basset – not potty-trained, totally freaked me out. To say I wasn’t pleased is to put it mildly!!! At such provocation, I can make a sailor sound relatively angelic. Not to forget, I am bilingual so the impact is double. To avoid Polo being deported to the now not-so nice-breeder, Baku was soon desperately pouring over dog training manuals. He kept Polo on a leash in the house tied to his chair while he did his homework. What a sight! The ingenuity behind it was that Polo, instead of wandering all over the house and choosing the choicest places like my silk rug to relieve himself, could instead tell Baku that he needed to go out. We learned later that the breeder had a huge yard where the dogs played all day and did their business. Clearly, housebreaking had not been on her agenda.

Neighborhood kids checking out our new family addition

Worst of all this canine was so docile that he NEVER barked. He had never heard a doorbell and visibly shrank each time it rang. Apparently folks don’t have doorbells in uppity New England. Wonder how true that is. I recall calling the breeder to ask her the bizarre question of whether she had somehow removed the dog’s vocal cords. I think she was privately worried that she had sent Polo to a looney bin. Our relationship was certainly teethering…

Polo Transforms
Anyway soon Polo, with all the attention he received as a solo player, blossomed–if one can say that of an alpha male creature. His personality gradually started coming through. He started barking when the doorbell rang- it was almost like Pavlov's theory in action. Just substitute barking for salivating… Polo also became housebroken–thanks to my calm and patient son. Of course, it only cost me an entire flooring on one level. He is now a fully vested member of the Krishna households – mine and my ex’s. A true dog-lover, my ex is hooked on the dog, just like he was on Charleigh. So, yes, we have a sort of joint-custody situation except this now applies to a canine and I provide the support while Polo goes for weekend visits.

Two most important men in my life

Basset Stubbornness in NOT a Myth
Don’t be fooled by Polo’s docility, it is only a veneer. He has given the customary basset stubbornness a whole new meaning. A big animal, almost 73 lbs, trying to making him move in a direction he doesn’t want to go is next to impossible. Once he embarrassed me completely before the neighborhood teens when he glued his big rear-end on the ground and decided he was done. When I pulled on his leash, he managed to wriggle his large head with all of his long floppy years out of his collar so that I was left standing with only the leash while he just stared at me defiantly with a look that plainly said – I ain’t moving, do what you will. Needless to say, I was the neighborhood entertainment that afternoon.

Don't be fooled by that dumb look- he will stay put if he wants to.

Jump, Greet - Topple
Another annoying, to many, is Polo’s trait of ‘jump and greet’ everyone. The first time he almost toppled over a rather short girlfriend who has always claimed she is five feet tall, but apparently is not, since Polo clearly towered over her. It was hilarious when she sternly wagged her finger in his face after he had calmed down. She might be height-challenged, but she certainly makes up for it in other ways - very effectively. Polo is now dead scared of her.

He Can Kiss Too
Since Polo is extremely athletic, it took us a little getting used to as we had become accustomed to Charleigh’s physical limitations. He can sprint and jump very high, very easily. Despite his bed being rather high, Baku often found himself with this big dog’s dead weight on his legs when he woke up many mornings. An unsuspecting date one evening had his face licked by the infernal dog when the guy sat on my couch and Polo went flying at him to land him a big smooch right on his mouth. The man clearly not a dog-lover was not amused to be kissed by a dog! Had it not been for my placatory charm, even the friendship would have been lost…

No kidding, he is a smoocher!!!

Polo is My Man Now!
With Baku leaving for college, Polo is truly my best friend now. There’s nothing like having that scrumptious face waiting for you when you come back home to an empty house. Daily he waits for me at the landing of our hallway stairs looking out the glass windows in my front door, just as he did when my son would come home from school. Taking him for a walk before and after I return from work is our mutual treat though it does appear that he is taking me for one as he drags me along. (Let me also add that one needs the patience of a saint to walk a male dog because of their innate desire to mark their territory after every few steps.) But our compatibility is evident from his happy tail sticking up in the air, ramrod straight, and my smug grin and matching strut… He is indeed a worthy successor to our Charleigh!

Some Things Like Bassets are Meant to be - Part I - Our Princess Charleigh!

A blue-blooded princess - she was

My love affair with bassets started more than five years ago and is continuing. Basset hounds are beautiful dogs, also referred to as “hush puppies”. They have deep barks, low long bodies, silky long ears and those melting droopy eyes with the sweetest of temperaments. In short, they are addictive!

How it All Began
It all began when my son was in middle school and had to spend many hours alone till I came back from work. It gnawed at me persistently that he had no siblings so I thought, I should perhaps get him a dog. However,I hadn’t really made up my mind due to obvious reasons of a dog being a major responsibility. But life has a way of making some decisions for you. One day at work in fall 2002, I found a co-worker looking visibly upset in our common kitchen. Upon enquiring, I learned that she had four bassets and one of them was a real princess who was not getting along with the other girls. And this time, my friend had got hurt while breaking up a big dogfight leading to marital disharmony over the animal. To cut a long story short, the basset could not remain with them anymore and she didn’t know what to do. At once a light went off and I offered to have the basset over at my place over the upcoming long weekend. ONLY for the weekend, I repeatedly warned her as if fighting the inevitable...

Meeting of Hearts
Bottom line, my co-worker brought Charleigh over – a beautiful pure-bred black and white basset hound who normally greeted strangers with loud barks, but not us. She just flew into our arms and stayed there as if she belonged. It was déjà vu all around. She came to stay for the long weekend and never went back.

Straight into our arms she came.

Two Princesses!
Charleigh and I understood each other very well. She was fiesty, all loud bark with not a mean bone in her body–actually a wimp when faced with true confrontation with a never-ending desire to plonk herself on the nearest couch and go to sleep while desiring minimum exercise. You could be describing me. But she was truly my son, Baku’s, dog. He ruled and she had accepted him as a leader of the pack shadowing him everywhere and I mean everywhere.

Chuck before her debacle.

That Awful Summer Day
However Charliegh’s stay with us was full of drama. Bassets are very skittish and any sudden sound can set them off. One beautiful summer day in 2003, while Baku and I were relaxing upstairs in my room, something startled her and this queen of klutz ran down the stairs, lost her balance and hurt herself badly. We rushed her to the vet who had told us she had broken her back and surgery had to be performed instantly and that the surgery and the ensuing treatment could run in thousands of dollars. An immediate decision had to be made. Of course, we were going ahead. She was family.

Our Two-legged Wonder
However the painful reality, we were warned, was that she may still never walk again, even after the surgery. Needless to say, I did spend thousands from my limited resources without a second thought, only to find out after weeks of convalescence that forget walk, the poor dog could barely stand up. Those were long hard days when Baku and I literally nursed her around the clock. Finally with dogged perseverance on our parts (pun is definitely intended here) including Charleigh's of course, we worked non-stop with her till she was able to stand on her front legs. Soon like a seal, with unhampered spirit, she was running around our house on her two forelegs- her hind legs dragging behind her. Her hind legs just could not take her body weight yet. To be honest, she was becoming quite comfortable in her two-legged glory and I was beginning to panic that Darwin's theory of evolution was at work here or at least this is how it must have all started - the adaptation process. Anyway, at this point my own stubbornness came into play.

Wheels? NO Way!!!
Baku was after all a child, he did the needful for her, but it was left up to me to work on her physiotherapy as instructed by the vet. It was way beyond the six weeks by which she should have been walking when the vet gently tried to suggest that I get her doggie wheels since it really was not going to happen now. He had barely finished suggesting the horrific idea when I immediately vetoed it. I just would not accept that this beautiful young animal, only four years old would be using those awful wheels for the rest of her life. No way!

Dammit We Are Going to Do It!
Back home, I sat down and looked into those droopy yet intense eyes and literally had a firm woman to woman talk with Charleigh. I told her that I had spend my hard-earned son’s college money on her and I would be damned if it was wasted, so she was going to damn well walk. I suspect that, I was talking more to myself. Anyway, folks who know me well, know that I have an inner determination that borders on relentlessness. And ruthlessly relentless I was! Daily, both Charleigh and I went outside to exercise – come hail or sunshine - with a beach towel holding her back up – just enough that her hind legs were able to touch the ground and she was forced to make the effort to use them with her forelegs. I had never realized how innovative and ingenious the human mind can be when confronted with life’s challenges. I had invented a whole customized physiotherapy regime with my own set of contraptions… I just could not afford to spend more than the five thousand plus that I already put into this treatment...

The Woman, the Beach Towel and a Hound Dog It truly was a sight to behold – the poker-faced woman (hate to admit it, but I felt like a royal idiot with an aching arm) with a very low and long back canine raised from her behind by a long jazzy beach towel walking pitter-patter clumsily on her two front legs and yet making a determined effort to use her hind legs. It certainly was a conversation starter and I must have finally gotten to know all my neighbors whom I had barely noticed earlier in the couple of years that I had been living there. Reactions varied from “lucky dog, I would have put her down” to “oh they are like kids and we have to do what we have to do for them”. You know which school of thought I belonged to. But these unsolicited remarks were certainly very revealing.

Hallelujah! -Miracles Do Happen!!!
Well our hard work paid off just when I was beginning to wonder if I had been foolishly optimistic – six months later during the Holidays!!! One day whenI was half–asleep taking a much-deserved nap in the basement which was her domain now (Chuck, as we called her affectionately, never came up the stairs again, she was too traumatized and we were happy to have it that way), I suddenly noticed in my drowsy state that the dog was walking towards me. I thought I was dreaming. Hallelujah!!!!! Doggone it (of course the pun is intended!)– my girl was taking small steps very gingerly on all four of her legs… I cried tears of disbelief and joy almost choking this big old girl in a tight hug. She was a big girl for sure… We took her to the vet who could not believe it. He said we had performed a miracle. It is no exaggeration when I say that the entire neighborhood celebrated. She had captured their hearts with her spirit and joie de vivre. After all how many two-legged dogs do you see chasing after a squirrel or go running across the street to beg for a doggie biscuit from one our neighbors or terrorize a six-foot man with her bark while unable to even stand or challenge a big dog with her deep hound bark with almost no mobility… Chuck's spirit was certainly indomitable!!! What a Holiday gift!


Charleigh had to practically relearn how to walk and stopped often

One of Life's Many Ironies...
Just when she had become strong and had started running around-thank goodness- on all her legs - rather sashaying actually, since she could never truly walk straight again,(she swayed like the all-woman that she was)and we were beginning to truly enjoy her, she died one night a little more than a year later from the bloat disease which can hit such breeds at anytime for any reason. I will not go into details about the indefinible grief that Baku and I went through. It still hurts... Your first dog is like your first crush, you never forget...

There Was a Reason...
Reflecting on all this, I do believe, Charleigh came into our life for a reason. She taught us many life lessons. That with determination, hard work and positive thinking and of course, money (that always helps) one can achieve wonders. Due to her Baku developed a strong sense of discipline, selfless love and responsibility. Most of all, she got both of us addicted to bassets for life... Because once you love basset, you truly are hooked for life...

India Myth - Definitely NOT in the Case of Traffic!!

Taken from www.kegcomputers.com

When folks complain about traffic here- it makes me chuckle because they have no idea how much better they have it here in US. Today my drive on Route 66 where traffic always seems to be jammed, brought back memories of traffic in India…

The Law of the Jungle
Traffic in Indian cities is a nightmare and this is not a myth but rather the unembellished truth. Foreigners unused to the mayhem that exists on the Indian roads often come back chanting Hare Rama Hare Krishna after their experiences on the Indian roads. The jungle rule - survival of the fittest gets a new meaning on these roads.
(Below is the image in its original context on the page: my.telegraph.co.uk/posts/Default.htm/Traffic)


Horns Rule
Indian traffic is heterogeneous and includes every kind of vehicle possible-car, truck, motor scooter and cycles to name a few. There is no respect for lanes and horns are more important than brakes or turn signals. Horns are used continuously in different patterns to convey different messages for different situations- most important one being to get out of the way!

Just relax lady!
I recall when I returned to New Delhi from US for the first time after an absence of seven or more years, I had forgotten the Indian traffic norms. On the way to my parents’ home from the airport, I recall clutching four-year old Baku and anything in sight for dear life on what seemed a life threatening perilous drive in a rather ramshackle jalopy of a cab. It was late at night, rather very early hours in the morning and huge trucks seemed to be flying on the empty Delhi highways. (International flights almost always land in Delhi in early hours after midnight). The trucks were following no rules and changing lanes as they pleased and our cabbie just pressed his hand on the horn to let them know he was passing and lo and behold, they made way. I must have become a devout Hindu in those moments. Teeth clenched, I yelled at the driver to slow down but he kept calming me in a patronizing manner that folks back home reserve for us non-resident Indians who they feel have become too soft due to luxurious lifestyle in the West. Believe me it does not take too long to toughen up back home.

(Below is the image in its original context on the page: benetech.blogspot.com/2006_12_01_archive.html)

(That is a three wheeler driven by some of the most dextrous drivers in the world)

Road Disputes are No Big Deal
There is so much traffic on Delhi’s main roads during the rush hour that the overall speed of all vehicles is incredibly slow. Every now and then, drivers of vehicles just stop their engines and handle road disputes very efficiently and effectively. I say this from one experience when I watched in horror as the driver of my motor scooter, a three wheeler, a sort of cheaper substitute for a real cab, got out in stalled traffic to deal with another brother from another three wheeler because that fellow had the nerve to cut in front of him. It was a hot summer day, tempers were high and my big built Sikh driver got out exchanged a few choice words with the culprit and ended the argument by slapping the other driver who was constitutionally too mismatched to retaliate. Horrified, I kept my hands on Baku’s ears as the only Hindi he seemed to be picking up and repeating at the most inopportune moments were the choice curse words that he seemed to imbibe faster than anything else from these situations. Anyway within minutes, the issue was resolved and we were on our way to our destination. Of course, gradually, I learned to just be sanguine in such situations. And believe it or not, after a while you become immune to the near-death misses...

Outside Valet Service
What I found fascinating was that if you go to a shopping or commercial center, you put your car in neutral gear and hand the keys to a parking attendant who will manage to manoever your vehicle in the tightest of spots in outside parking lots. You reward him with a hefty tip when you return and that is the best valet money you will ever spend in Delhi… This is serious, very lucrative business, almost down to a science, so there is no danger of your car being stolen. But you need to have the patience of a saint if you return and find that your "valet" has gone for a cup of tea and is nowhere to be found and it is only more than 100 degrees F outside. You just grin and bear it.

Need for Infrastructure
Public transportation system is now much better with the beautiful and clean Delhi Metro that is running in the city, but the roads continue to be terribly congested and clearly there are more cars than the existing infrastructure can handle. As the living standard of the urban middle class improves, more cars are added in each household and since they are mostly small and lightweight, it is not uncommon to see the city sidewalks being used as parking spots. Nowhere is the size of the population more evident than from the traffic in the cities. Sound pollution in India is not a myth- one wakes up in the city to the sounds of honking cars and buses. After a while, you just get desensitized while developing nerves of steel and a tremendous sense of humor to maintain your sanity. You really have no choice!

Carpe Deim or Seize the Day is My New Mantra!

An early morning in Washington DC, my home now.

It's finally happened! I never thought it would, but it has and against my better wishes. Since the last couple of weeks, I have started waking up daily, very early in the morning like 5:30 a.m.or even slightly earlier and I feel good!. This is no mean feat because I am the proverbial night owl. I think the nagging of all my early bird friends and family has finally seeped into my subconscious - like an irrational guilt. A couple of my well-meaning friends have regularly suggested, rather pushed me to land up at the gym when it opens at 6.00 am and from thereon proceed to work. In fairness, this was in response to my constant whining that I am unable to find time and energy for exercise at the end of a long day.

Uncle Sam' Perks
A couple of my friends even start their day at ungodly hours like 4:30 am because they work for Uncle Sam and have the luxury of finishing their work day by 3.30 p.m. or so. I don’t have any such incentive or option. It is not feasible in my job as a policy analyst in a non-profit where I have to perform almost daily outreach to various stakeholders in the industry that I monitor. Also, we have meetings and conference calls going late into the afternoon to accommodate folks on the West Coast.

Childhood Memories
The joys of early rising are not new to me. My father, a lawyer, was an early riser. He would come back after an exhausting day at the Courts and would head to bed no later than 8.30 pm. I remember as a child our mom hushing us because dad would get up as early as 4:00 a.m and then work on his legal briefs to prepare his cases. It was very comforting to hear sounds of the tea kettle being put on and see the light from his lamp in his study percolating under my nearby bedroom door. You see, I am a light sleeper so noticing half-asleep these signs of life stirring in an otherwise silent household made me feel very secure before I went back to sleep.


An early morning in my home away from home, New Delhi - venue is the majestic India Gate.

Messed up Body Clock
Till recently and only under duress, the earliest I have been able to get up has been 6.30 am so as to reach work by 9:00 a.m. I have an hour’s commute door to door and a basset hound that I need to walk for half an hour or so before I leave. Over the years, I have programmed my body clock such that I sleep very late on weeknights like 11:00 p.m. or so and forget weekends!!! I am up way past midnight into the wee hours. It is a standing joke among my friends that they had better not call me on a weekend before 10:00 a.m and even then they are not sure that I won’t snarl at them. The handful of early morning weekend jaunts (meaning 8:00 am or so) I have been involved in, I have been dragged kicking and screaming and I am NOT kidding here...

Early Rising is Now MY Cup of Tea!
But now I have to admit, getting up early since the last couple of weeks or so has decreased my stress level as I am able to get a lot out of the way on weekdays without my customary breathless scrambling around-plus I often include an early morning run. On the weekends, I have the anticipation of my afternoon nap after my errands and gym and before any evening plans. It is like going through a not very exciting meal in order to enjoy your dessert. Now that is a window of time that is off-limits to everyone.

So I have to admit, I have started loving my morning quiet and a cup of tea that I now enjoy instead of drinking it clumsily on my way to the Metro scalding myself every now and then. Humor aside, I am a convert, though still not to the point of getting up before 5.00 a.m. Also, I am not advertising this new fad (hope it becomes a part of me but its too early to tell) too much as I have no desire to be go overboard with any near-dawn adventures that my overly-zealous morning friends may come up with. Let's be real here. Progress is slow but sure and now I have to work on adjusting the body clock to hit the sack early. So far that has not been fun because I may go to bed early, but sleep evades me till 11:00 p.m. or so. But I am working at it doggedly...

Cheers!

Trials and Tribulations of a Single Mom - "Mother" of all Trips, Part III

In the last “Single Mom” segment, I talked about my son going to college at the University of Virginia, Charlottesville. You would think, picking and dropping Baku from and back to school would be a routine affair, but not so in my case. It is funny how drama seems to follow me everywhere. Keep reading…

The last few trips from Northern Virginia to UVA and back had been pretty much uneventful, other than foggy winter weather a couple of times. This time I not only had to bring Baku back, I had to bring back a roomful of stuff since he had to clear out his dorm before leaving school for the summer. So when I left a few weeks ago in May to pick up Baku after his Freshman finals, I expected it to be a routine trip. Not so.

Trip to UVA - Preparation
After returning from work in early May, I started for UVA at about 6.00 p.m or so. That was a mistake to begin with as I was already exhausted after a long work-day and commute. But, I was very excited and did not want to delay Baku’s arrival home anymore, as he had been done with his finals since a couple of days earlier. I started out with my Bollywood disco music and my big hot cup of tea to pep me up for the drive…

Route 29
Going to Charlottesville is a straight trip down Route 29 and is a total distance of about 100 or so miles. On a clear sunny day, it is a beautiful two and half hour drive, but not late evenings when it becomes a bit tricky since the two-lane road is winding and visibility can be really poor during bad weather. Normally, I check the weather before leaving, but this time I didn’t since it all seemed clear and fine. Of course, as Murphy’s law dictates, about half an hour into the trip, I heard that there was a tornado watch in the UVA area. Too late to turn back, I continued in a foolhardy manner.

Caught in the Act!
After the typical delay due to traffic on the ever-busy Route 66, Route 29 was thankfully, totally empty. So with my music blaring and the caffeine flowing in my veins, I stepped on it and was flying down the road lost in my thoughts and enjoying the beautiful scenery in the dying daylight. I did notice somewhere in the dim recesses of my mind that the couple or so cars ahead of me had slowed down noticeably. Any savvy driver would have smelt a rat and taken the cue from that, but, not me. I just looked at those silly slow moving vehicles disdainfully and sped on thrilled to be making up for lost time. Lo and behold, I saw a police car right behind me and it was then I attempted to slow down. Eternal optimist that I am, I thought I had fooled him. Too late! He followed, I slowed and he bellowed at me through his bullhorn. In my agitation, with the now annoying music which I forgot to turn off, I stopped right in the middle of the road - well almost. Oh the ignominy of it all…

But This is My First Time!
“Ma’am please pull off the road”, he barked again through that damn device. ( You know, I almost had the strangest thought at that time that he was very rude-I guess, I regressed into princess mode as a defence mechanism!) It finally penetrated the fog in my mind, that this was truly happening… So now I collected myself and waited for him. “So Ma’am what’s the hurry, you were going at 76 mph in a 60 mile zone,” was his pleasant query. Thinking I had the most original excuse in the world, I tried to look desperate – not too difficult at this point – and indicated to him discreetly that I had badly needed to use the Ladies Room. (Later I was informed by my knowledgable son that, that this was the lamest and most used excuse in book.) The cop looked slightly amused and his expression seemed to say “Try again”. I did. “Ok, the truth is that I am making up for lost time to avoid the expected tornado and pick up my son from school,” I told him honestly this time with a truly pathetic look. “Oh yes, it is that time of the year,” he stated almost conversationally, now showing a flicker of empathy. “And Officer, this is the first time, I have ever been stopped for speeding”, encouraged by that tone, I continued proudly almost expecting him to pat me on the back instead. Still in that agreeable tone, he asked for my driver’s license and registration. He asked me to wait for a few minutes. Congratulating myself that I had won some brownie points because this was truly my first time, I waited a bit more confidently.

It Doesnt't Pay to Bargain!
The man returned with a wholly different tone and with paperwork for a $150 fine! I couldn’t believe it! Now my submerged Indian sense of bargaining came to the surface in full force. You know in India half the thrill of shopping is getting a great bargain which is based on true negotiation. So I started whining with that in mind, “Can’t you cut me some slack, Officer, this is my first time…” I think he looked a bit incredulous, then thoroughly entertained not even bothering to hide his grin when he answered that I could either pay by phone or come to the County court to challenge it, which by the way some experienced stalwarts in this speeding business told me is actually an effective way to reduce the fine. Like I believe them!!! Anyway I was really mad because not only did I get slammed, it started to rain heavily and became dark, the very situation I was avoiding. The whole episode delayed me by 25 minutes.

Mom My Cell Phone Drowned!
Wait, it doesn’t end here. So I restart my trip an hour away from UVA, at the boring 60 mph speed limit very somber and stressed when my precious son calls me. Here is the conversation. “Mama, I am calling you from a friend’s cellphone because my cell phone is not working. It got submerged in the water in my backpack because the water bottle I had in my bag leaked.” So, he continued, “When you reach my dorm building, call the dorm phone which also sometimes does not work, but I will be alert.” Maybe it was my karma catching up with me,but I thought I was going to burst a vessel. In a suppressed ominous tone, I told him to WAIT near the dorm phone and try to call me if he did not see his only mother there in the next couple of hours. Well I did reach somehow, but it was raining cats and dogs by the time I arrived and yes, Baku was waiting. I think he had picked up on my dangerously quiet tone and knew that he had better make sure he was there at the door to let me in immediately.

Mom Trapped in a Dorm - Good Grief!
So drenched,hungry and cold, I ran into Baku's dorm to wait out the thunder and lightening that was in its full majestic glory at this time… Feeling absolutely miserable and definitely undignified, I entered a room only to find four 19 year old frat boys watching a basketball game on Baku's TV (which meant it still needed to be packed), munching away and wondering how to behave with this sour middle-aged woman sitting in their midst,after the initial polite greetings were done with. This was going to be a very very long hour or so wait till Baku and I could even begin to think of even going outside much less load the car with the year-old clutter which to make matters worse was so horribly packed that it made me shudder to think of fitting all of it in our sedan… Baku is wise beyond his years, he could sense that his mother’s tolerance level had reached its threshold. So he quietly said as if he was the parent here, “Here mama check your email on my laptop". He knew that working on the computer would distract me from the most awkward of all situations. So there I was stuck in the dorm, genuinely needing to use the bathroom, with my back to these frat boys, typing away desperate emails to all and sundry… I would not wish this on my worst girlfriend!!!

Why Did You Not Empty the Car?
Finally when the thunder and lightening had decreased, but the rain was still coming down hard, we decided, we could not wait anymore and ran out into the pelting rain to load the car and there started the mom-son argument about how I had not emptied the car as he had asked and my rejoinder being that he certainly did not know how to pack and on and on. Anyway, we finally started on the trip back home at about 10.30 pm or so with no visibility either through the rear view mirror because the car was overloaded on the back seat or much visibility ahead because the tornado was now moving to our area. Baku was driving and he had to stop a few times, but we did reach home safely at almost 2:00 am. This was certainly a trip from hell and test of endurance on many fronts but it definitely strengthened the mom-son bond.

Is it Me?
When I was growing up, my friends and family always told me that they thought I was so much fun and there was never a dull moment because things always happened when I was around. I thought they were just teasing me but I am beginning to think that there must be some truth in that statement because I do seem to be one of those folks who just seems to attract drama… But it sure does make life exciting!

Trials and Tribulations of a Single Mom - Oh Those High School Years! Part II

Ashim Today- Baku is a nickname that never got unstuck

Varsity Basketball
As you can surmise Baku is a true lover of sports, so scrambling to make it from DC to Baku’s games in Vienna or looking for carpools with other parents was the overriding theme of my life in his school years. I especially tried to make it to almost every game when Baku played Varsity basketball in high school since it is almost next to impossible to get into that level team even if my darling son only warmed the bench in quite a few games. Often I made it halfway into the game and plonked myself next to the nearest groups of parents, only to later find out that I was sitting amidst the opposing team families because when I was clapping the loudest after my son or his team made a goal or had a good play, I would realize that no one else was joining me and that I was in hostile territory!

"D" in Calculus- Mom on the warpath
On a different note, I had made it clear to my son that he could be as much of jock as he wanted but it could never ever be at the expense of academics. While I was never a parent who went to each PTA meeting – actually I hardly remember attending, but one or two in all those years, I was very firm and uncompromising about his grades not slipping. I recall how Baku after he learned that he had made it into the much coveted University of Virginia in Charlottesville, decided his work was done where his grades were concerned and basically went on a mental vacation in his senior year. He started getting “Cs” and then “Ds” in his advanced calculus classes. It totally freaked me out as UVA is known to rescind admissions. Those were not happy days for Baku and even less so for his school counselor and calculus teacher. Immediately, I called his teacher, a former marine, who indifferently told me that he didn’t let me know about Baku's progressively declining grades because these are eighteen year old young men and women and supposed to know better. WRONG answer! He certainly got an earful about a teacher’s commitment to his students' welfare and success. Apparently, he called Baku later and laughingly told him that he had better show up in his remedial classes because he certainly didn’t want another call from me, much less a visit. (I am sure he probably said more and Baku gave me a sanitized version as he is a consummate diplomat.) Apparently, this was a first as the teacher had never ever made such effort with other students. Needless to say, Baku got his act together and did so well that he earned college credits.

Wahoo!!! We have arrived
Similarly, I am a firm believer in positive thinking buttressed with hard work. I vividly recall a visit with his high school counselor to talk about colleges and she stated that Baku’s chances of making it into UVA were almost nil because getting into UVA from Northern VA was cut-throat competition. I refused to accept it and told my son that he might want to now cut back on his basketball and get his nose to the grindstone. And he did. I still remember him calling me diffidently at work and telling me that he “thought!!!” he had gotten admitted as he saw his name on the UVA website, but it could be a mistake. I remember going totally wild with excitement and asked him to print the screen page so we had proof. Of course he got the acceptance letter the next day.

Times have certainly Changed
As I reminisce about all these years, it makes me realize how much we imbibe from our own upbringing. I know that academics being very important to me is a direct influence of my background. But, what a far cry from the world we grew up in where my parents especially my mom was so hands on regarding my educational choices etc. These are different times and independent thinking seems to be the hallmark of today's generation. Perhaps due to the times today and personal circumstances as a single parent, contrary to my own sheltered childhood, my son is extremely independent and has been from very early years. All throughout without consulting me, he chose his own subjects, met his own deadlines and prepared for his college admissions – all on his own. Barring elementary school, I did not get involved in his work in any way other than check to see his grades were fine.

Mom You HAVE Issues - Whatever!
Sometimes I look back and wish I had spent even more time with him but it was always a juggling act between meeting his needs and ensuring that my own career was stable. I do know that I did my best and must have done a few things right because this is one self-assured young man who now looks out for me. While I must confess, I am enjoying my life as an empty nester, I do miss his presence around the house and even his annoying statements when we had our moments and he would look me in the eye unflinchingly and say in a level tone, “Mom you have issues”. Don’t we all!

Trials and Tribulations of a Single Mom - Those Fun Elementary and Middle School Years Part I

Baku in Middle school

Yesterday morning when I was leaving for work, I looked at the athletic tall young man in his business suit leaving for his summer internship with his briefcase in hand and it suddenly hit me hard that the bird had certainly flown the coop! Yes, I am talking about my son, now a sophomore in college.

Looking at him with tremendous maternal pride and love, the memories of his childhood years flooded my mind….Oh how the years have flown!

A Baseball Challenged Mom
It seems only yesterday, that I was taking him to his Little League games, a mom totally clueless about baseball having grown up in India’s cricket culture, a permanent legacy of British colonialism. But baseball ignorance did not deter me from being one of the abnoxious moms who fearlessly voiced what other parents were too polite or rather too wimpy to say out aloud that the coach was only focused on his son… They thanked me later but my son didn’t. The coaches loved Baku as he was their model team member but the mom was a whole different story! (My son is an old soul and gets ruffled about very little.) But don’t get me wrong, there was no malice, rather off the field, we all were very cordial and had lot of fun. All these kids practically grew up together as they were around each other in one or the other area League teams. Since there was not too much diversity and my name was unusual, it just became easy to call me Baku’s mom and that is what I was known for years till he went on to play Varsity basketball. Basketball actually became his true passion in the later years.

"Good eye" - Not!!!!
At this point, I have to share some truly funny anecdotes. As I said earlier, I was a complete ignoramus about baseball, but that did not deter me from picking up the baseball vernacular very fast as I sat with the parents on the bleachers behind the batting cage. These were serious baseball veterans so when they yelled “get a piece of it” and similar phrases, I listened earnestly and made a mental note. Soon I was also yelling the same at Baku when he didn’t hit the ball a few times. Finally, my child came up to me later and said, “Mom, STOP it, I am struck out and you are yelling, good eye”. Needless to say, I was suitably chastened for at least one inning… Now I am wondering about those parents who probably didn't want to burst the bubble of this enthusiatic, yet totally clueless mom by correcting me. They were truly kind!

She Did It!!!
Then there was the episode of a dedicated-to-the-point-of-craziness coach yelling at me one evening while I was work in DC for my tardiness in getting Baku to practices. I reached the field later to find kids looking at me very strangely. Think about it – an entire team of elementary school kids following you with their gaze in wide-eyed wonder and some even with wicked glee. My son, who of course was intentionally invisible till the ride home, told me that the coach had collapsed after yelling at me while the kids were there hearing him talking to me. And the kids who habitually quavered around this overly authoritarian coach were now in tremendous awe of me. Baku’s mom did it again! In their simple young minds, I almost killed the crazy coach!!! Oh Lord, why me was my instant and almost indignant thought! Of course, it was only co-incidental because he collapsed from some inner ear imbalance issues which made him dizzy and of which he had been unaware. But oh the cruelty of fate in terms of timing!! Once back, the coach specially came over to reassure me that it was nothing to do with me. Duhh!

In retrospect, it is hilarious and the parents including the coach and Baku's friends, now very grown-up young lads and I still laugh about it but, I don’t know if Baku has forgiven me!



Baku just after completing middle school - see how fast they shoot up!

Metro Musings - "Doors Closing"!!!

I commute daily to my job in downtown DC on the Metro. Travel by Metro is a life enriching experience. In the thirty-five minutes or so that I am on the train, I get to read the daily newspaper, something that I would be unable to do otherwise in my crazy work day and on my way back home, I get to decompress from worklife stresses. Of course the best benefit is that I don’t have to deal with DC road traffic. The day I drive in, folks KNOW it because I am a nervous wreck. It seems that I am the only one following the traffic rules because a couple of times I have been rear-ended because I did not go through the light and stopped as I should have. You would have thought I was at fault from the insane honking of the irate drivers behind me... One of Life's many injustices!

People watching
Anyway, the best kick I get from the Metro travel is people watching and pondering over the complexities of human nature. Why for instance would a fellow passenger put on his darkest shades in the darkest of tunnels and appear to look at you directly. Actually, he or she is probably asleep behind the sunglasses, but, it is very annoying, if not unnerving to have that gaze on you. Then you have those folks who crave attention and engage unwitting fellow passengers in order to expound their political views. Today, it was a fellow sister very upset about the Hillary situation and telling off a defenseless young man seated next to her. The fact that he barely responded was totally lost on her. She was on a roll and didn’t even realize that the not-so-dumb guy had his on iPod all the time!!!!

Those infernal Seat Situations
And there are other interesting characters like the turf-oriented little old lady who takes up almost the entire seat meant for two by putting her tiffin, handbag, umbrella-you name it- on the seat, so that you are squeezed into half or less of your allotted space. Daring to request her to remove her belongings is rewarded with an intimidating glare that basically says you are a lowlife for bothering such a hapless soul. What do you do? You back off into your little space and she goes back sanctimoniously to her bible or whichever godly book she is reading. Or let us take the case of the little man who compensates for his small stature by puffing himself on the seat with his arms crossed, his elbows and legs sticking out aggressively in such a way that he invades your personal space while you are left seething - it is clear that he hasn't forgiven the Universe for its lapse in not giving him the required inches. Finally, let us not forget the hardworking man heading home who is sound asleep on the aisle seat, head thrown back and snoring away blissfully leaning on your side like the tower of Pisa, while you are anxiously waiting for him to fall on you or are desperately wondering how to make your escape now that your stop is next and the choice is to either poke him gingerly or just bellow in his ear... I could go on and on.

Metro Men Show some class!
Jokes apart, what truly irks me is to see able-bodied men hogging Metro's "Priority Seating" and pretending to be oblivous to the very pregnant woman in discomfort and standing literally in their faces. That they are pretending is obvious from the furtive glances they send her way over their newspapers in which they attempt to bury themselves and their guilt. It is often the female counterparts who end up offering their seats in the spirit of sisterhood. Granted one has to be careful because I have offered seats a couple of times only to get an icy refusal because the women were NOT pregnant- YIKES!!!! But come on guys, gimme a break, there is NO mistaking a woman who is hugely pregnant and probably in her last trimester. Chivalry and actually sheer compassion are never outmoded commodities!

Doors Closing!
My personal Metro escapades are confined to the last minute dash into the train just as the doors are about to close. It is almost a perverse thrill to make a split-second decision to sprint into the train and then look around with tremendous smugness because you made it with your entire anatomy intact. Of course, you look like a complete idiot when you make it, but your bag doesn’t and has to be pried free by some good Samaritan who seems to debate for a second whether you deserve to be rescued.

Paparazzi I ain't!!!!
Every now and then, I do try to expand my risk-taking repertoire, but give up. For instance yesterday, due to problems on the track following a major storm, Metro had offloaded hundreds of passengers on the platform and while everybody was mad and focused only on locating the exit, yours truly had the hare-brained idea of taking pictures with her cell phone camera while walking down the escalator. So here I was poised and pointing till I got a dirty look from the portly gentleman walking down ahead of me. He looked up and had this very royal expression which seemed to say - we are not amused. I guess, he did not seem to relish the fact that a close-up of his bald pate could end up being a focal part of the picture. Oh well, I lost my nerve and put my phone away which is why I have nothing to show you about the mass exodus of seething mankind that was truly a sight to behold…

Of course, the above is not the norm ,the truth of the matter is that fellow commuters are generally courteous and regular folks. It is just that the idiosyncracies of some makes the otherwise humdrum commute a lot more adventuresome and breaks the daily tedium....It makes it all the more human.

India Myths - Just some final thoughts for now...

I am going to stop now on this subject because there is a lot that I can write and actually will continue to write as and when I feel strongly about something. For now, I am hoping that I have not only removed a few of the common fallacies, but that I have also piqued curiosity about my rich heritage.

India today is a study in contradictions. While it is the world's biggest democracy with a burgeoning well educated middle-class, impressive military strength and an unparalleled space program, it still remains one of the world's poorest nations with tremendous illitracy and an ever-growing population neutralizing its progress.

The moral of the story for us is that do not just believe the media hype. It is the media after all and its aim is to sell so take it with a dose of healthy skepticism. Be curious, don’t prejudge and stop being ethnocentric. It is a global age – while we are the richest nation in the world, there is a richness of culture and learning beyond Pizza Hut and McDonalds.



The world has certainly shrunk!

Broadening our horizons will make us more tolerant and accepting. Cultural differences are only superficial because at the end of the day human nature is the same everywhere. This is not preaching from the pulpit, but a genuine sentiment that I hold - simply that a lot of political problems both on the domestic and international front could be avoided and resolved if folks rid themselves of arrogance and ignorance born from insularity and lack of empathy and curiosity about the world outside their immediate frontiers...

Oh You are Having Curry!!!! India Myths, Part III...

A serious pet peeve that I have is that Indian food is considered synonymous with curry and is hot, hot hot!!! Puh-leeeeeze Indian cooking is more than just curry! The curry is a British legacy which probably evolved when some fussy British officer in Colonial India wanted his Indian cook to make the thick spicy gravy that he so liked. Actually any self –respecting Indian chef is seriously offended when the westerners lump fine Indian preparations as just “Curry”.

There is no such generic concept as curry in India. Indian cuisine consists of a variety of always freshly cooked vegetarian and meat dishes and Indian bread using a delicate blend of spices varied for each dish. The food is distinguished by the use of fresh vegetables, whole wheat bread, rice and milk products. Ingredients, Spices and cooking styles are unique reflecting the geographical conditions in the subcontinent. For instance, folks in Northern India put heavy emphasis on wheat as opposed to folks in the coastal regions who tend to prefer rice.

Indian cooking has finally arrived in US. It is unbelievable how many excellent restaurants serving Indian cuisine have mushroomed in the DC area - actually all over the world where thriving Indian restaurants can be found easily.


Click here for a wide array of Indian recipes from vegetarian to non-vegetarian and from cuisines from different regions of the country

Indian food is also being touted as one of the healthiest cuisines due to the emphasis on fresh produce, freshness of ingredients and inherent disdain for preservatives. I know one thing for sure, that visiting family in India, I am constantly eating – because I crave the true homestyle Indian cooking - and yet lose weight, whereas here even though I neurotically monitor my intake and type of food, I am constantly fighting the battle of the bulge. It has to be the hidden salts and sugars in the foods we consume here.

Indian cuisine consists of a variety of always freshly cooked vegetarian and meat dishes and Indian bread/rice using a delicate blend of spices. A traditional Indian family will always prepare meals from a scratch almost daily- this is truer back home than here where a lot of semi-cooked food is now available, but even that is also intended to be consumed fast.

Yes, hot spices are also used but only for flavor so please do your homework before attempting any foreign cuisine otherwise you will suffer the fate of a former boss. This otherwise dignified and calm man was seen sprinting down the hallways of the law firm where I worked, screaming profanities, with a red face, bulging eyes and streaming nose because he had unwittingly and enthusiastically bitten into an innocuous looking pea in my potluck vegetarian dish. You see that "innocuous" pea turned out to be diced hot green pepper. Till the time I left the firm, he called me the Mad Bomber who tried to kill him as revenge for overworking me on a major litigation...That episode is now legendary.

On Arranged Marriage!- Part II of the India Myth series

Did you have an arranged marriage? Another common question asked often of me and my sisters from the Indian subcontinent regarding which I would like to provide only a humorous glimpse, since books can and have been written on this subject.


I did have an arranged marriage -here I am right after the ring ceremony i.e engagement. Per ritual the attire at this occasion is provided by the groom's family.

Arranged marriages are the prime method of marrying in India since times immemorial. Arranged marriage is not a blind date, or a shot-gun wedding or a mail-order bride system or anything of the sort… It is an ancient art fine-tuned till it is almost a science. So how does it work today? Very simplistically, family elders find a prospective match. Boy-girl meet. Courtship follows generally after a formal mutual acceptance as in an engagement and normally ends in marriage. I say "normally" because contrary to popular misconception, each party has the right to back off and does at times- even right before the wedding! (If a couple meet on their own and want to marry- that is called a love marriage, but even then in most cases, parental approval plays a pivotal role.)


My niece and her husband both doctors at their wedding-following the courtship which follows after parents arrange the match

Behind the scenes, parallel investigative operations are conducted in terms of a no-holds barred background check, especially on the prospective groom, by older female relatives/aunts in the family respectfully called "Aunties". (In Indian culture, all older women are referred to as "aunty" as age is respected. Addressing someone senior in years by first name is taboo and there are strict social rules about this aspect.)

These aunties could teach the western intelligence agencies a thing or two about collecting background information. Once they are on a mission, nothing is sacred in their quest. Nothing!!! Through their amazing social network, the aunties will dig up dirt on everything and I mean everything from the guy’s height weight, age, his education, his horoscope, his past and even current life indiscretions, his salary, his eccentricities, his career prospects, car model including the year – you name it. The entire family comes under the same proverbial microscopic eye as after all the much pampered daughter will be a very integral part of the extended family. All that the female candidate pretty much has to do is look pretty and wait to get the scoops. If all fits the bill, a meeting will be arranged between the young man and woman to see if there is any chemistry. Yes, "chemistry" that much touted concept in dating life here... Oh and the aunty who finds the match made in heaven will hold a special place in one's life as she will never let anyone forget that she is behind the success story. These aunts surely are potent forces in domestic India!

Barring the somewhat satirical twist, on a serious note, arranging matches is serious business in India. While not fool-proof, the premise behind this process is that commonality of backgrounds (normally social status, education and lifestyle) is more conducive to a life-long harmonious relationship. And that the couple if they approve of each other can fall in love over time once the basic ingredients are in the mix. Indian Director, Mira Nair's, internationally renowned film, the Monsoon Wedding provides a wonderful insight into the world of arranged marriages in India.

I sure wish we had some aunties here -they could give these online services with their elaborate questionnaires based on pop-psychology, a run for their money. It would save many of us single sisters the trouble of hitting bars or alternatively getting painful knees and muscle pains from all those outdoor activities that the singles often do to meet their potential soulmates, only to find out many dates later that Mr. Mars was never really available. Yes these aunties could save a lot of heart ache, time and energy.